


Scars

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Can you write a Jaskier x female reader fic, where the reader, still not fully recovered from her scars, worries about her dear Jaskier’s affections. When Jaskier worries about her and asks what’s wrong, she cries in his arms, saying she feels ugly, compared to all the other women he’s seen with, until he tells her how beautiful she is. A bit of smut at the end of the fic is okay too!
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Scars

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned your head to plant a soft kiss on Jaskier’s temple and leaned back into him.

“What?” you asked, watching the fire dance in the hearth.

“Why don’t you let me see you anymore?” he asked. You looked at him, confusion plain on your face.

“You see me right now,” you said with a little laugh. He shook his head.

“No, not really. Not as I could before. You’re always piled up in layers or blankets and I haven’t see all of you in quite some time,” he explained, “And you don’t owe me anything but… I wanted to know if I’d done something or if your feelings had changed.”

Your eyes dropped to your lap, his hands holding yours, thumb tracing soft circles in your palm. He watched your face, trying to catch a glimpse of emotion, but when he felt the tear hit his hand he knew he’d been right to ask. Something was bothering you and he wouldn’t let you keep suffering through it alone.

“It’s alright, my love, take your time,” he said, pulling you in closer as you began to cry in earnest.

“It’s just… I don’t want you to look at me.”

“But looking at you is one of my favorite things to do,” he argued.

“It was. Before.”

“Before what?”

You looked up at him, eyes red and tear-filled.

“You know what,” you said meaningfully, your hand resting self-consciously on your stomach. Before you’d been sliced open during combat. Before Geralt had to practically reassemble you. Before your body had healed up leaving a twisted, puckered scar as a reminder of how close you’d come to death.

“Y/N do you really think I’d be so shallow? Hell, not even shallow, would I be so stupid as to think any scar could diminish your beauty?” he asked.

“Well you must admit, Jaskier, your usual conquests don’t get many battle wounds,” you said with a humorless laugh, wiping away a tear. He pulled your hand away and took your face in his own, fixing you with a serious look.

“I don’t care about them. I love you. And you have never been more beautiful. That scar is a sign that you have struggled and fought and survived and stayed with me. When I look at it I don’t see a flaw, I see a reminder of your courage and strength and I love it as much as I love every other part of you,” he said the words slowly, enunciating them clearly, willing the words to permeate the layers of anxiety you’d built up around yourself.

“Please,” he whispered, murmuring the words into your cheek and jaw as he pepper kisses along your face, “Let me show you what I mean what I say. Be brave for me, Y/N, and I will reward you for it. I swear I will.”

His honeyed words and the love in his eyes bolster you and you stand, fingers working at the laces that hold you in your dress. Jaskier’s eyes watch your hands work, whispering little words of encouragement until the garment drops and you are left naked and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes slowly scan the expanse of your body, eyes drinking in the sight like a starving man eyeing a feast; hungry and longing. When his eyes reach the scar your heart stops but his eyes only grow softer and he leans in closer. His soft lips gently kiss the pale, thin flesh.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, planting kisses and the word along the mark. Your breath catches at the sensation of his lips tenderly tracing the part you’d feared, the soft caress of his hand as it travels up your thigh and gently parts your legs, finding you already wet and wanting.

“So beautiful,” he sighs as his fingers slide in you and you grab a broad shoulder to keep you steady. He’s so lovely on his knees in front of you, mouth still tracing and kissing the mark while his hands stroke and thrust in ways you’ve missed much more than you realized.

“I’ve missed this,” he says, speaking aloud the words you’re thinking.

“Do you know that I love you?” he asks, building the rhythm as he feels your legs tremble and tense around him.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Do you know I love all of you?” he continues.

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

His next words are interrupted as you come and he holds you steady until the aftershocks cease and then he pulls you down to his lap, kissing you deeply.

“Promise me you’ll never let a thing like that get between us again,” he asks, “Talk to me next time.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, stay right there, I want to make sure you’re good and convinced that I mean it and I’m not leaving this room until I feel certain that you do.”


End file.
